


Blue

by Verabird



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Hogwarts AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verabird/pseuds/Verabird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot of life at Hogwarts. Martha, a pureblood Ravenclaw with dreams to become a healer, and Rose, a muggleborn Hufflepuff, who takes each day as it comes, magic included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

“Your lips look like Wiggenberries.”

Martha giggles and idly puts a finger on her bottom lip. “I’m experimenting,” She says, looking into Rose’s bright eyes which are transfixed on her purple-blue lips. “I was going for house colours, but I overshot.”

“Lip tinting charm?”

“Yep, worked a treat, but I don’t know how long until it comes off.”

Rose laughs, her eyes widening.

“Lucky it looks good then.”  
“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Rose holsters her bag over one shoulder, picking up the last book that wouldn’t fit in her other hand. Martha looks first at the feather quill balanced behind Rose’s ear, the tip peaking out from her blonde waves, then her eyes cast down to the book. The spine tells her it’s for potions.

“I could help you with that, if you’d like?”

“Nah, it’s ok. I just have some homework to catch up on, thought I might copy a few paragraphs here and there. The usual.”

“I really could help. We could spend some time in the library and work through some problems...?”

Rose smiles.

“The library was never my style, but maybe a walk round the lake later?”

Martha tries not to look too delighted. She smiles with one corner of her mouth and nods.

“Sounds good, meet you after Transfiguration?”

“You bet.”

Rose bounds off towards the clock tower, curls bouncing against her shoulders in rhythm. Martha watches her go, then absent-mindedly touches her lips. It’s enough that Rose noticed and even liked them, even if the charm was an accident.

She sits at the front of Defence Against the Dark Arts, eyes drawn to the thin windows lining the walls. It was such a bright day earlier, she wills the clouds to stay away so that they can lay on the banks and get grass all over their robes.

“...Miss Jones?”  
“Hmmm?” She starts and looks up, the Professor looking expectantly at her. The entire class is too. Someone behind her sniggers.

“Sorry...could you repeat the question?”

There’s a cough, and it’s awkward, Martha doesn’t move a muscle.

“I was asking if you knew whether defence spells would be effective against a Giant Horned Snail?”

Martha clears her throat. “Combat is a more appropriate style. Giant Snails can be knocked back easily, but are resilient. You can’t defend yourself forever. It’s better to take them out.”

She takes a deep breath at the end of her spiel. She knows she’s right. Defence Against the Dark Arts was never her favourite class, she always preferred Potions and Transfiguration; they’re what she’ll need to get into medical school. But, she’s good at it all the same.

To her relief the class continues as usual. She’s set an essay that she half listens the title to, but she’s halfway out the door before her neighbour has even risen to her feet.

Rose is already in the courtyard. She’s sitting on an ornate stone bench, feet dragging across the cobbles. Her wand is raised and a light green strand is emerging from the tip. It encircles a nearby stone vase.

“What are you up to?”

Rose starts, turning her head to smile at Martha, keeping her wand trained on her target.

“Material transfiguration. I always thought this particular vase should be ceramic.”  
“Ah, I see.”

Martha takes a seat next to her, sliding her bag to the other side so she can rest her chin on Rose’s shoulder as she watches the magic. A full minute passes before the vase begins to glow green, vibrates for a moment, and then topples to the floor smashing into several pieces.

Rose is silent for a moment, staring down at her accidental handiwork, before she begins to laugh.

“You wouldn’t think I was a witch at all sometimes.”

“Don’t say that.” Martha waves her wand, murmurs ‘reparo’ and carefully replaces the vase on the stand. “You’re as good a witch as any.”

“You’re better.”

“At different things,” Martha says simply.

Half an hour later they’ve reached the other side of the lake where the bank is steep as it reaches out to the dark ripples of water below. Rose is sitting between Martha’s legs, both facing the lake. Martha’s hands card through Rose’s hair, weaving loose braids and placing delicate flowers on the tips.

“Do you think you could turn it blue?”

“I think it’s nice blonde,” Martha says softly as she undoes a braid only to plait it up again.

“But you could, right?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“I could match your lips.”

Martha blushes.

“I think they’ve faded now.”

Rose cranes her neck, allowing her hair to fall free of Martha’s hands as she turns to get a look. She squints close at Martha’s lips, then nods slowly.

“Yeah, back to normal.”

She turns and lays her head back in Martha’s lap. “But you still could do it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Go on then.”

Martha laughs and spins a magically reinforced daisy chain round a curl.

“Seriously?”

“When am I ever not serious?”

“You’re the boss.”

Rose feels a warm tingly sensation run across her forehead and down the back of her neck. She closes her eyes, feeling Martha’s fingers run through her hair. She could happily fall asleep like this, the sounds of light waves lapping at the bank, a soft wind sweeping through the rushes, safely cocooned in Martha’s lap.

“Done.”

Rose opens her eyes in excitement and pulls at a strand of hair, bringing it round to her eyes.

“You’ve only done the ends.”

“I think it’s nicer like that. I didn’t trust myself to do the whole lot anyway, what if I’d burned it all off by accident?”

“I’d still look good.”

“Yeah, you probably would.”

Martha agrees with the sentiment that Rose would look good bald, not because she thinks it’s necessarily true, but because she thinks Rose would be beautiful in every essence.

“I love it,” She says suddenly, beaming widely. “You should do yours too.”

“I’d need someone to do the back.”

“Well don’t look at me.”

“I’m not.” Martha laughs as she looks down at Rose. She takes the strand of hair Rose was looking at from where it’s fallen across her cheek, and tucks it gently behind her ear. She lets her fingers brush against soft, warm, skin for a split-second longer than would be necessary.

“Martha?”

“Yeah?”  
“I’m so glad I met you.”

Martha doesn’t reply straight away. She watches the gently rise and fall of Rose’s chest, sees her breathing slow to a relaxed pace. She wonders if Rose might fall asleep in her lap. After a few moments she leans down and places a soft kiss on top of Rose’s head, delicate and unassuming, leaning back to close her own eyes and drift off.

  


 


End file.
